


all your wonders at my demand

by Cerberusia



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk and Dave talk it out by not talking about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all your wonders at my demand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Etnoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/gifts).



> This is a treat rather than an assignment because I am a twerp who has not yet grasped timezones. Please enjoy it! I dearly wanted to write a rapped confession of feelings, but my flow is absolutely not up to the task, so I settled for them communicating largely without words.

There are throwing stars in the sink again. You pick them out with thumb and forefinger and leave them on the draining board with your glass. Bro will deal with them within twenty-four hours, or he'll find them in a little pile on his bed. You are not having this apartment go the same way as the old one, with swords in the fridge and puppets in the blender.

The apartment still has some puppets around, of course - they're part of Bro's livelihood, after all - but it's all smuppets, no humans with unhinged jaws. You're all pretty put off humanoid puppets right now.

You hear the front door open and Dirk's footsteps in the hall, through to the bathroom. The shower turns on. He's been strifing with Bro on the roof again. Rather him than you: he gets real enjoyment out of testing himself against his older doppelgänger. It's their way of bonding, you think, along with setting up elaborate puppet porn scenarios. As for you, you've barely touched a sword since you got out of the game and couldn't be happier about it.

You retreat to your room, now accessed off a hall rather than the kitchen - three months and fourteen days after moving in and you still feel a little thrill of pleasure when you think about it - and get to work on the latest GameBro. Bro has already got to it, and his orange lower-case additions are as weird and on-point as usual; you get to work in red with your own comments. You still don't see him in person so much, after the reunion that started with a bone-crushing bear-hug, went through a knock-down drag-out fight, and ended with the two of you sat next to each other on the couch cautiously patching each other up as Rose mediated; but you connect through the visual medium the same way you've always done.

Thirty-four minutes later, Dirk comes in. His hair is dry and styled, which makes it an unusually short shower by his standards. He pulls out a slightly battered Asimov collection, makes himself comfortable on the other side of your bed, and you proceed to ignore each other in comfortable silence for the next forty-seven minutes.

At last, Dirk closes his book and looks up, apparently staring out of your window onto the cityscape beyond. You watch him in your peripheral vision as you scroll through your Twitter feed on your phone. He stays that way for fifty-four seconds, which could mean that he's lost in thought, but more likely means that he wants a hug. You could roll your eyes and bitch about how he can't just _ask_ for a hug, but then you'd be an enormous hypocrite, because nor can you.

But you can initiate. You lean back and stretch out an arm. Dirk turns, sees it, and scoots in there like lightning. You wrap your arm around his shoulders as he tucks himself into your side, warm and solid, and turn your head to the side to briefly press your face into his hair. It smells like styling products, of course, just like Bro's does.

You return to scrolling one-handed through your feed. Dirk lays his head on your shoulder and reads along with you. It's peaceful: you know he shares your sense of humour, so you know that when you pause to admire a particularly ridiculous dispatch from Texts From Last Night, he's just as amused as you are. His bare shoulders feel good under your arm, warm and solid.

The other thing you haven't got used to yet is your new mattress, which is worth every red cent Bro paid for it and also at your insistence not propped up on cement blocks. It's so _comfortable_ , probably everything baby mattresses dream of growing up to become. You feel yourself sliding down, your arm slipping from Dirk's shoulders to his waist. You close your eyes and luxuriate. You know what microexpression Dirk's making, but he can fuck off: he's equally thrilled about his own mattress, even though that _is_ propped up on cinderblocks, through his insistence.

You roll over on your side, facing away from him, and wriggle a bit until you get comfortable. Dirk will probably either leave or pick up his book again. You like the idea of him sitting next to you reading, his warm hip pressed between your shoulder blades.

But he doesn't pick up his book, and he doesn't move to leave. He shifts about behind you and you feel his weight being redistributed on the mattress, and then a hand comes to rest lightly on your arm. He's not quite touching you, but you can feel his body heat. You are being spooned.

You've never been spooned before. It's pretty good! It's a lot more intimate than your usual side hugs, but if Dirk wants to expand your repertoire of physical affection, who are you to complain? Though it is weird that there's no actual chest-to-back action going on here, which you remedy by wriggling backwards just an inch until your ass hits his...abdomen, you guess. He tightens his grip on your arm and doesn't move, which means he's okay with it.

You lie like that for a few minutes (okay, twelve - you can't turn back time any more but you'll never need a watch), enjoying Dirk's solid warmth pressed against your back, his face in your hair. His breath on your neck tickles a little, but you can put up with it.

More wriggling: you're not used to sharing a bed. You expect that any moment Dirk will give up and leave, but he doesn't.

Your arm is tingling so you try to squirm a bit again to get it in a better position. Your ass makes contact with a lump. Nah, it's totally not a boner, don't be silly, Dave.

Dirk has gone very still. He might not be breathing. That's definitely a boner.

This places you in an awkward quandary. It's not that you're having some kind of incest freak-out here - your sister is engaged in some form of hatemance with herself melded with a cat who is possibly in a romantic relationship with you melded with a crow melded with a troll, it's all fine, you weren't exaggerating when you told Rose than Skaia was mad jazzed for kidcest. But how to make it clear that you're totally on board this train bound for The Westermarck Effect Never Had A Chance-town?

You wriggle a little more. Dirk still doesn't appear to be breathing. You stop wriggling and say in your best breathy falsetto,

"Is that a gear wrench, or are you just pleased to see me?"

He lets out a little huff of breath into your hair, soundless laughter, but he doesn't relax.

"In case that wasn't enough of a hint," you say helpfully, "I want to touch your dick."

"Oh." His breath is warm on the back of your neck, now less ticklish than sexy. "You sure?"

"Sure as some stupid simile I just made up on the fly." You're not going to tell him that you've been thinking about this for a while, actually. Maybe later.

"Well," he says drily, "can't argue with that." His fingers trail down your arm. Is he going to affectionately entwine your fingers? Not gonna lie, you could go for that. But instead he rests his hand on your hip and leans over to nuzzle your neck.

He doesn't move to let you turn over so he can kiss you. It could be that he likes to be in control, but you think that it's mainly because he's a bit shy when it comes to actually sticking his hands down his ecto-son's pants. He talks a good game, but he's still only your age and is also a virgin, which you're (just barely) not. Guess it's you in charge of this tender incestuous romp.

He likes it when you push him onto his back and climb on top of him, though you get the feeling he'd rather be the one on top if he knew what he was doing. You do the work, because you know how nice it is to feel wanted, and he enthusiastically squeezes your ass - which to be perfectly honest you don't think merits _quite_ that level of enthusiasm, being as bony as the rest of you, but he's so into it that you are too.

Dirk's ass is, of course, as fine and sculpted as the rest of him. He's not as built as Bro, but that's just age: he's muscular and obviously built broader in the shoulder than you're ever going to be, fuck these coathanger genes, you don't know where you got them from because Mom's downright cuddly.

You keep comparing while you jack him off slowly, feeling his legs jerk and watching his head toss from side to side. He's pale and freckled across his nose and shoulders; you have only a few moles. His cock in your hand feels like your own, but better because rubbing your thumb around the head makes him thrash. His shades are off, folded with yours on the bedside table, and you can see how tightly he's squeezed his eyes shut, mouth open in pleasure-pain.

You lean in to press brief kisses to his mouth, feeling his quick breathing. He turns his face to follow yours, hips jerking up into your grip. He curls up when he comes with agonised gasping noises, and you wonder if your o-face looks like that.

He then proceeds to do the same to you and, like you guessed, he _does_ like being on top. Hey, it's a pretty good view from down here, you can't complain. He's obviously as interested in you as you are in him, which is pretty flattering - particularly in your dick, which is _very_ flattering if kinda strange to experience. His touch sends sparks right through you, the stuff you thought Rose's smutty wizard fanfictions were exaggerating for purple effect, but they weren't, it really does make you want to cry out, and you do and you don't care because it makes Dirk bite his lip and stroke your dick faster.

It's not quite what the novels might call 'lovemaking': it's a bit too heavy on the teenage experimentation, because that's exactly what it is. But this is some pretty damn tender incestuous teenage experimentation, and when you're done and curled up together and Dirk takes hold of your wrist in an affectionate grip, you entwine your fingers instead.


End file.
